


Tent

by gagewhitney



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-30
Updated: 2011-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-25 02:12:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gagewhitney/pseuds/gagewhitney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You need to snap out of it, girl," he says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tent

**Author's Note:**

> First fic for this fandom. Don't know what came over me. Based loosely around the promo/sneak peek for 2x03.

Andrea's already inspecting the tent while Daryl takes out the walker, and by the time he retrieves his arrow, she's standing at the entrance, a hand on her hip.

"I think we should stop for the night."

He nods. "Yeah, okay."

He follows her into the tent and takes one more glance around before zipping it shut behind him. He clicks off his flashlight and blinks quickly, trying to get his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

"Bastard have anything to eat in here?" he asks, setting down his gear before taking a seat on the sleeping bag next to hers.

She waves a hand toward the small stash she'd found and goes back to prying open a can.

"I am so sick of beans," she mumbles.

He waves a Keebler box at her. "Got some crackers. The good kind, too."

"Yay," she says flatly.

He shakes his head, tearing the package open. "You need to snap out of it, girl," he says.

"Oh, like you did? After you found out about Merle?" She shakes her head and steals a cracker. "Don't lecture me, Daryl."

"Hey. At least I'm trying here," he spits. "Yeah, all right, so I flipped out at first. But I'm trying to move the fuck on, and you know what? While you were fixing to off yourself, I fought to get out of that place, remember?"

She stays quiet, chewing and staring at the zipper on the sleeping bag.

"Look, it happened, and it sucked. It all fucking sucks. It's not easy for anybody, okay?"

She nods. "I know. It's like, I've been walking around… numb, since Amy, since the CDC. And I just want to feel something again, you know? Anything. Anything to make me feel like I made the right decision coming out of there."

"Yeah," he says. "Well, you did. I know that ain't much, me saying it, but it's true."

It's dark, but she can still make out the soft look he gives her, so unlike the usual anger and frustration that usually graces his face. He's unconventionally attractive under the layers of grime, someone she might sidle up to in a bar if circumstances were different, and she finds herself scooting toward him until their legs are almost touching.

"What are you doing?" he asks, suspicious.

"Go with me here," she says quietly. Before he can say anything else, she puts a hand on the back of his neck to pull him closer and kisses him hard on the mouth.

It takes him a few moments to respond, and when he does it's much more gently than she would have figured. She licks at his lips and he opens his mouth, lazily sliding his tongue against hers. His hands ghost up her sides, barely touching her, before he lets himself grasp her upper arms.

"This okay?" she breathes against his lips.

"Mmm," he groans. He recaptures her mouth and tangles a hand in her hair.

She pushes at his shoulders until he leans back onto the sleeping bag, allowing her to straddle his lap. She takes advantage of her new position to grind down on him. He makes a strangled little noise in the back of his throat, so she does it again.

His fingers stray to the hem of her shirt, so she peels it off and watches as his eyes go wide at her newly exposed skin. He traces a finger along the edge of her bra and licks his lips before dipping his head to plant a wet kiss in her cleavage.

She shivers at the contact and threads her fingers through his hair as he continues swiping his tongue along her chest. When he kisses her mouth again, she reaches to unhook her bra and lets it land in her lap.

"Off," she mumbles, pushing his shirt up until he pulls it over his head.

When his bare chest is pressed against hers, he growls and pulls her closer, kissing a line down the side of her neck. She can feel him, hard and pressing between her legs, and she stifles a cry against his shoulder when he bucks up against her.

She stands and quickly sheds the last of her clothes, then places her knees on either side of his waist again. His hands rub up and down her thighs. She goes to work on his belt buckle, and he watches like a hawk as she quickly undoes it and slides down his zipper.

"You good?" she asks, breathless. She's got a hand resting just below his naval.

"Hell yeah."

She grins and drags his pants down to bunch above his knees, and then her hands are on him and he lets out a heavy breath, his eyes rolling back.

"Jesus," he sighs.

She strokes his length a few times, hesitating. "I don't… Damn. I don't have anything," she says quietly.

"Me neither," he says with a mirthless laugh. He lets his head fall back. "Ah. Fuck. I'm, uh… I'm clean, though."

She nods and leans back a moment. Quickly, she does a little bit of math in her head. He's hot and hard against her, and she strokes him once more before nodding her head.

"Okay."

She raises herself up and sinks down onto him, and they both gasp as he fills her.

"Fuck," he says.

"Shh."

He grunts a reply and his hands immediately fly up to her hips, gripping her hard enough that she's sure there will be finger-shaped bruises in the morning. She starts to move, rocking her hips on top of his, and steadies herself with her hands flat on his chest.

He breathes heavily, his eyes trained on her, and lets one of his hands wander up her stomach to cup her breast. His thumb brushes across her nipple, and she bites her bottom lip and rides him harder.

"Touch me," she says quietly. She takes the hand that's still gripping her hip and places it between their bodies.

A few more thrusts and she's gone, a ragged gasp escaping her lips as the movement of her hips stutters. He comes soon after, and she leans down to swallow the low moan that escapes from his mouth. She rides it out with him, planting lazy kisses on his jaw, before collapsing next to him on the sleeping bag.

"Damn, woman," he says, still breathing hard, and she laughs.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, cooling down, before she says, "I don't know about you, but I'm definitely feeling less stressed."

He chuckles softly. "Oh, yeah." He looks over her and skates his fingers down her arm. "You glad to be here yet?"

"More than I have been in a long time," she says. She moves closer and lays her head on his chest. He freezes up for a second before moving his hand to stroke her back.

"We'll have to try that a few more times, maybe," he says.

She grins up at him. "Oh, yeah."


End file.
